s w a h i l i
take a drunk girl home
let her sleep all alone
leave her keys on the counter
your number by the phone
pick up her life she threw on the floor
The desert rose was being careful, as was to be expected when sneaking out of the manor with out a guard, or more importantly her brother. But, she was in some dire need of previsions, and frankly, the manor air was stifling. Especially for one who had been raised originally, those first many months prior to her weaning as a gypsy. Trapped in those cold walls in the silent and empty wing that she had been shucked into. Some days, she just needed to be able to stretch her legs and run, which is more or less a big decision for her searching for her escape today. But now, among the bustling of the city, the little desert flower had to be even more careful. lean limbs danced through the shadows, where her brightly hued pelt could be gentled into grayer tones by the darker shade, rather than shining beneath the sun like spun gold. She knew better than to draw attention to herself. Her face markings made her an Atraer, which made her easy to remember. And easy to remember would mean word would get back to her father. Particularly as it was well known she was the one Atraer who was rarely seen in public, let alone alone.
So, one had to be careful, sneaking her way through the more crowded streets to get to the entrances to the back alleys, where fewer cared who you were, and were more concerned with the money you carried for goods. It was here that the little mare paused, glancing around, before rolling her shoulders back. She drew that khaki shawl her brother had given to her a little closer, keeping it carefully positioned over her head, around her face, wrapping to help obscure her as much as possible. Her gaze danced from person to person, making sure none of her father's guards were around, that no one was following her. She met a few eyes, gazes who quickly ghost over her, ignoring the small desert dancer, before she paused at the sight of a larger, black being she'd never seen in Solterra before, before dismissing the thought of the geode-like stallion. She was rarely in the heart of Solterra, anyways. Of course it was likely there would be others she was unfamiliar with. So dismissing the oddly rock-endowed stallion, the mare slipped into the darkened alley where the ruffians where known to exist.
The air was distinctly darker here, but it bothered Swahili not one bit. Only here does she lower that shawl from her face, and the few who look her way grin with crooked, blacked teeth - familiar smiles as they recognized a fellow 'unwanted' that they had long ago learned to enfold into their group. Many knew her name, knew her familial relations - and just as many knew why she hid with the lowest of the low, "Tired o' seein' yer sisters dressed like them pampered princesses, while ye ain't even gonna get no rag, aye, Swa?" A voice calls out in greeting, and the little rose trots in, her first smile since she snuck out from her father's home, "Everyone needs a chance to stretch their legs, and actually feel wanted, no?" She counters back, before approaching the stall owner who had initially called out to her. The old, gangly mare merely grinned that same crooked, and slightly delirious smile before pushing a basket towards the young mare, "Aint much, but we all tried ta chip in fer ya girl. Should be 'nough food ta not starve. Know that pa o' yers aint ta worried if ye lighten a few stones. But, well, we 'round 'ere. We gotta take care o' our own. An' ya may live in one o' 'em fancy 'omes, but yer ju' a' unwanted a' any o' us." The knarled mare stated. "Now, ya go enjoy yer time in 'em alleys. Any o' 'em give ya hecklin', ya tell them ta come talk ta me, aye? This 'ere li'le basket be waitin' fer ya when yer done."
Swahili briefly pressed her muzzle to the gnarled one of the croon like mare, "Your kindness is not one I deserve." As if to prove her own differences, her following words came so softly, so gently - as if afraid those of Solterra may hear her, but knowing those in this alley would understand the differences of those who come from outside, "May Helios never fail to bless your day with sunshine, and may Selene ensure your nights are never truly dark." Her father may spout about Solis, but Swahili had her mother's tutelage for those precious months when she was younger, and her gods were her mothers. Even if she payed respect to the ones of Novus. "But I must not stay too long. My brother was ill this morning, he is not providing me coverage. I must return home before I am missed." The old croon grinned again, "Then ye better git girl. Git, I say."
Swahili laughed, before grabbing the ragged basket, and pulling her shawl back over her face, and slipping back out of the dark alley, glancing around to make sure no one from her father's estate was around, before making her way back through the crowds, as close to the shadowed walls as possible. A quick in and out mission for supplies, before her father realizes she is gone. If he found out . . . her return home would not be one of heartwarming welcoming, and she wouldn't put it past him to make sure she remembered the lessons to not sneak out . . . He never was shy to hit her if he knew he could get away with it.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Jarek
Notes: Figured he could have noticed her sneak in to the alley, and then back out - and maybe he be curious about the little odd mare clearly trying to be sneaky and hiding in the shadows? I dunno xD haha
